Thick as Thieves

And now it's back to Skyrim! Sorry it's been so long again. I have a Fate/ crossover in the works, too. And my friend who I said I would refer to for help with this is doing military service, so I've been out of it. But I won't back down.

So, after the bureaucracy strikes on Midchilda, it's time to see if Caro can survive Riften. And a big question: given that Caro is NOT the Dragonborn (which explains the question in the title), should I formally introduce the Dragonborn, or have him serve as an offscreen character? Food for thought before we get to the meat and potatoes (Hah, food puns). So, without further ado, let's get to it.

Even with her magic, it had taken a few days for Caro Ru Lushe to reach Riften, and in that time, she learned a number of general things:

1. Arngeir had understated the superstitious nature of Skyrim.

2. It was dangerous to travel at night (it was bad enough during the day, but something about the night unnerved her).

3. Everybody seemed to hate everybody else.

And Riften was turning out to be the embodiment of corruption she had heard it was. She was stopped at the gate yesterday and was nearly forced to pay an entry fee. With a quick story, she was able to forego the fee, though her conscience again tore at her.

But her troubles in Riften were only just beginning.

Prey. That's what she was; she could feel it. Every move she made was being watched. She didn't notice it at first, but the evening she arrived, Friedrich had let out a small warning cry. Not for danger, she knew, but caution. Since then, she had become acutely aware that all eyes were on the young stranger in town.

So, that morning, Caro had left Fried in her room at the inn, while she went down for something to eat. Even with danger closing in around her, Caro kept an ear open for the elusive Thieves' Guild. Though they were less whispers and more open conversations; nobody seemed to care about the Guild, or its operations. Was that how the Guild operated, with their reputation?

Or so she thought. Any talks about the Guild quickly devolved into mockery and contempt. She picked up tidbits about how their status had fallen, and how they were just a shadow of their former 'glory.' Some rumors floated around about how they were cursed, like the gods had turned their backs on them. Not that gods would ever favor a group of thieves and robbers, the public reasoned.

But that raised new concerns about something else she had heard.

The 'Daedric Princes,' they were called.

She tried to find any knowledge she could about them, but books were proving hard to find in Riften.

She knew that contact without the proper knowledge wouldn't end well, but it seemed like whatever gods were watching had different plans.

"So, what are your plans for Riften, lass?" a voice asked behind her. Turning around, Caro saw a man in black leathers sitting at the table behind hers.

Trying to stay uninvolved, she said, " I don't know what you mean."

The man chuckled. "You'll forgive me if I don't believe that. You just showed up here yesterday. Around here, you learn to keep your head down; otherwise, people start talking."

"You're with the Thieves' Guild," Caro whispered.

"That I am, lass. I heard you were asking about Daedric Princes at the pawn shop yesterday."

This man didn't give her the impression of a disreputable thief, or some heartless rogue.

"Don't believe everything you hear," he said, grinning, as if she had read her mind. "But aren't you a little young to be asking about the Princes?"

"It was just a question. I've heard about the gods here. Are they any different?"

"Very. I should apologize for just springing onto you like I did. My name is Brynjolf."

"Caro," she introduced herself.

"Now, about the Daedric Princes. They're not too different from the Divines, I suppose, though they do manifest in our plane more often than the gods. They also like to interfere with the 'mortal goings-on,' as they would say.

"My organization happens to be blessed by another Prince, Nocturnal. But, as you've likely heard, we've hit a rough patch."

That's putting it mildly, Caro thought. If everything she had heard was true, 'a rough patch' was an understatement.

"Is that sympathy I see?" he asked. "You're a child. Don't feel sorry for us, lass. What we do is criminal. We'll recover. Our group sticks together. And some day, we'll rise again."

"Brynjolf," Caro began, unusually serious, "why?"

"Some of us didn't have a choice. At the end of the day, we may be criminals, but we're a family, regardless of our background."

Caro knew he was speaking truth. And it was that truth, resonating with her own, that caused her to back down. "Is there any way I can help here?"

"You're just a child, lass. With your age, someone might get the idea to report you to the orphanage in town. Or, if you really want to avoid that…you could come with me. To the Guild. And believe me, the Guild is the lesser of evils. With us, you at least get fed."

"It's that bad?" she asked.

"Worse than what you're thinking, likely. I don't want to force you to make up your mind, but with how sudden your arrival is, one of three things will happen: I can take you into the guild, or the guards will either put you in the orphanage, or a prison cell. Or, as a last option, you turn around and leave before the day is done. Riften doesn't take kindly to strangers."

The unreasonability of her options was made worse by the fact that she could imagine it. She was quickly realizing that Riften was a town of people who were more-than-willing to sell out even a fellow merchant if it meant a quick coin.

Left with few options, Caro hung her head meekly and said in a whisper, "I'll come with you."

"I'm sorry for pressuring you," Brynjolf said. "But that makes me curious. What is a child such as yourself doing in Riften?"

To put a stop to the Thieves' Guild, Caro thought. But I can't very well say that. But what he said about the orphanage…

"I don't quite know," she answered. And what bothered her was that she didn't know what the truth was anymore. "But I still have things to do."

"I understand, lass. We should get going, then. I'll take you to our base."

As they were heading out the door, the woman at the counter growled out, "Corrupting children now too, Brynjolf?"

"Keerava, you just do your business, and keep your head down," he replied, just as abrasive. "Lass lost her parents; you want her going to the orphanage? You know what Grelod would do to her." The woman, Keerava, said no more, merely pursing her lips in disapproval.

The two made it out the door, but didn't make it any further.

"Which one of you is touched by the dragon?" a man asked the two. His voice was muffled, due to the mask over his face. Both he and the person next to him wore long brown cloaks, long enough to sweep the ground. "Is it you, girl?"

"What's going on?" Brynjolf asked. "Are they after you, lass? And what do they mean by 'dragon?'"

"We don't have to answer any questions, least of all from an ignorant fool. You can die as well!"

Caro didn't know what was happening, but she wasn't about to let the people in front of her harm anybody. "Kerykeion," she said.

"Yes, master," the Device responded.

"Who do you work for?" Caro asked the two with a no-nonsense tone. "If you refuse to cooperate, I'll have to bring you in."

"I'll offer you as a sacrifice to Lord Miraak!" the man shouted rushing forward, a mace in his right hand.

"Boost Up: Acceleration," Caro murmured. Before the man could react, Caro had already moved behind him. "Boost Up: Strike Power." Caro chopped at his wrist, disarming him. Two punches to the man's torso brought him to his knees, wheezing for air.

"You little bitch!" the second person, a woman, screamed. "I'll burn you to ash!" The woman raised her hands, and Caro could feel the magic gathering.

"Protection!" A barrier erupted from Caro's hand, stopping the fire. "Wing Shooter." A small pink ball of light flew from her hand and hit the woman square in the head, shattering her mask and knocking her down. "Alchemic Chain." From a magic circle around her feet, chains appeared and bound her two attackers.

"What the hell is going on here?!" a guard yelled, running up. "And who are they? Friends of yours, Brynjolf?"

"Not this time. This young lass and I had just left The Bee and Barb when these maniacs attacked us. Something about being 'touched by the dragon."

"Seems all of Skyrim's going to the dogs. Forsworn in the west, vampires burned down the Hall of the Vigilant, and now, more dragon talk. Well, I guess it's good no one was hurt. We'll haul these two away for execution."

Wait!" Caro spoke up. "I want to talk to them, to see if I can learn anything."

"What would a child know about interrogation?"

"The man mentioned a 'Miraak.' Maybe they were sent by a superior to gather information."

She could feel the guard staring at her through his helmet. "Then we'll ask the questions. You can wait outside for us."

Before Caro agree, the woman spoke up. "North. Head north, past the college. But you won't live to get that far!"

And then she felt it; they all felt it: a massive pool of magic, gathering in the woman's body. "Wheel Protection!" Caro shouted, the barrier appearing less than a second before the explosion. Once the heat had dissipated, all that was left of the two was a blackened crater and fragments of the woman's mask.

"Damn. A suicide," the guard cursed. "Now how am I going to explain this to the Jarl? And how are you so skilled at magick?"

"I think we should just be grateful the lass was as quick as she was. Would you mind coming with me for a second?"

"I need to grab something from my room first," Caro said, heading back indoors. Inside, she hid Fried back inside her cloak, and quickly rejoined Brynjolf. "Now I'm ready."

Caro was, admittedly, less-than-impressed with the idea of walking through the sewers, as Brynjolf guided her. "So, lass, while we have this time to ourselves, care to explain what you know?" he asked, sitting at an abandoned table. "If you had gone to maybe Whiterun or Solitude, you'd have gotten better treatment. But I hear that Falkreath is turning into a mess. Not like it wasn't already, but…"

"What's wrong?"

"What isn't wrong? Falkreath is the site of the largest mass graveyard in Skyrim, and it's the home of the Dark brotherhood. And now there's rumors of a werewolf killing folks around there. I'd bet you're starting to regret coming to Skyrim now, eh, lass?"

I don't even want to be here! she nearly screamed out loud. But she still had an overarching mission: to find the cruiser that was likely pulled here with her. The key question: where in Skyrim was it?

After a few breaths to sort out her thoughts, Caro answered his first question. "I've never seen those people in masks. The magic I used is from my home. I'm not actually from Tamriel at all." With that answer that ultimately didn't answer Brynjolf's questions, Caro recited her (by-now familiar) tale of how she ended up in Skyrim. Thankfully, he didn't ask about Kerykeion. Her magic? Fine. Even Friedrich could (maybe) be explained to someone willing to listen. But a pair of talking, glowing gloves? Even Caro understood that the human mind could only comprehend so much.

"So, you're exploring Skyrim starting from the east, which started here, in Riften. I'm sorry you're having to see the worst of it first. I know the reason you said you would come with me was only because your other options were shit."

"No, please. Between the orphanage and here, I think I'll take my chances." Honestly, neither option appealed to her, but she had to adapt to this new world. A small part of her was concerned that maybe she was adapting a little too well. She was following a member of the Thieves' Guild into their hideout. Which, as a certified military officer, would be, to put it mildly, illogical. "What's the rest of the Guild like?"

"Characters, all. Though if you could guess, we don't all have happy stories. If I said any more, I'd be betraying our code. We don't ask about each others' lives before this. Some of us were raised into this, others had nowhere else to go."

"A code?" she spoke up. Everything she had heard about the Thieves' Guild suggested otherwise.

Brynjolf chuckled at her silent comment. "Ah, it does seem that way. The one thing I can guarantee is false is that we'll stab each other in the back for a septim, sometimes literally. We're a family down here, even if we don't always show it.

"The Guild works on a 'first come, first served' basis; whoever takes a job is the one who has to succeed. If they fail, they either try again, or pass it to someone else. But we do have one more code," he continued seriously. "We do not kill. In our line of work, it's just bad business, you see."

This alleviated some fears that Caro had, but the base of her predicament remained. Hoping to get more answers, she asked, "The woman back in the street," she began, the memory of her self-incineration still fresh in her mind, "what 'college' did she mean?"

"That'd be the College of Winterhold. Strange group, always practicing their magick and whatever else they scheme about up in their tower. We even have a contact in the College, a fencer, goes by Enthir." Is everyone in Skyrim a criminal of some kind? Brynjolf laughed again. "You don't need to be so guarded, lass. I can tell you're more well-off than most of us here. Why you'd want to travel Skyrim in the middle of this civil war, though, that I can't wrap my head around."

"A civil war?" She remembered the bartender she talked to mentioning something like that.

"Right now, Skyrim has two major factions fighting for control," he explained, drawing a line in the dust on the table to illustrate. "On one hand, you have the Imperial legion, and they're on shaky ground. The 'peace treaty' they signed with the Aldmeri Dominion, the White-Gold Concordat, has put all of Skyrim on edge. It abolished one of the key facets of Skyrim religion: the worship of Talos as a Divine.

"At your age, I doubt you know what the Aldmeri Dominion is." Caro shook her head, confirming this. "It's the empire formed by the Altmer, or high elves in common tongue. They've been adding to their territory lately, for the sake of 'uniting Tamriel,' they say. Their latest battle pushed the Imperials into a ceasefire.

"As for the other faction, there're the Stormcloaks. They took offense to the banning of Talos worship, and rose up to resist the Dominion, and by extension, the Imperials. They also believe that Skyrim is Nordic country, and that it should ruled by Nords, for Nords. If you're not a Nord, you're lucky if all you receive is a glare. The Dunmer and Argonians have it the worst in that regard. The tension keeps brewing like it is, we'll be at war in a matter of months. Well, shall we talk about less unpleasant things? Come on, I'll introduce you to the Guild. Not that you'll actually do anything; consider this more of a hideout."

"I appreciate the help, Byrnjolf." And Caro meant it. For now, at least, it seemed she had found a port in the storm, however rickety its boards were. Standing up, she followed Brynjolf through the door leading down.

I'd say I'm sick of writing this, but that would be a lie. I love writing, and I love all of you for staying with me. Just...life's getting hard. Almost 4 years, and I'm no better off now than when I graduated high school. Plus, an obscene number of my past projects have seen fit to rear their heads. And because I have internet only on weekends, plus my Elsword gaming, Date A Live game(s), my anime backlog...I'm beginning to wonder if publishing here and creating a reader base was a good idea.

Sorry about dumping. I'd been meaning to introduce the Guild in this chapter, but the words dried up after Brynjolf's explanation of Skyrim. I also made a mistake in the first draft and said Dibella was a Daedric Prince, not a Divine. Yes, I fixed it. I'll get started on the next chapter soon, which continues this side of the story. Bye for now!